


Kiss

by drowninginmyworries



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninginmyworries/pseuds/drowninginmyworries
Summary: Roger's always had bad impulse control. Post-RENT.





	Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started writing this around six months ago, abandoned it, and after I saw the Rent 20th Anniversary Tour (!!!!!) this past weekend, I came back to it.

When they come together, the earth doesn’t shatter, and there’s no explosion or fireworks of passion going off. There’s no steamy confession in the sheets between lustful, wet kisses. 

But, that’s how it actually happens. A kiss.

They’re out on the fire-escape, Roger smoking a cigarette with a smirk on his face as Mark’s complaining about how bad it is for him. 

“Do you really feel the need to slowly kill yourself?” Mark asks, exasperation in his voice. He looks up at his best friend, intending to look stern, but upon seeing Roger’s smug face, he cracks a grin that he tries to cover up as a cough. 

“Do you really feel the need to be such a geek?” Roger mocks, blowing a puff of smoke purposefully in Mark’s face, sending him into a coughing fit, covering his mouth with his arm.

Roger cackles, and Mark shoots him a look that Roger’s sure is intended to be menacing but is actually just really… _cute._

(A few months ago his mind would’ve been racing once he came to the realization that he thought _Mark_ of all people was fucking _cute,_ but now, it’s just standard procedure.

_Wake up at noon._

_Make coffee._

_Banter with Mark about the news._

_Make eye contact and comprehend how fucking adorable he looked with his hair all mussed up._

_Continue banter._

_Repeat in some other varied form.)_

“It’s really bad for you. I know I’ve already told you a million times, but sue me for caring,” Mark huffs, pulling his signature stupid scarf around his neck more tightly. 

Roger softens just a little bit at Mark’s words. He did care. Far too much. 

“Hey, I know you worry, but I’ll be fine. I know tons of people who’ve smoked their whole lives and are still doing fine,” he points out, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his foot before setting a hand on Mark’s shoulder and squeezing it.

“I know, I just can’t stand the thought of losing you earlier than I should,” Mark confesses, in a rare moment of vulnerability. 

Roger meets his eyes, struck with how earnest they are. 

And of course, he can’t fucking control himself, and on impulse grabs Mark by his sweater, pitching forward and connecting their lips. 

Roger lets a hand go up to cup Mark’s cheek as his other arm encircles him, pulling him to his chest as he lets himself relish in the pleasant warmth that shoots through his body.

He feels Mark completely freeze, and he hates himself, pulling back quickly, eyes wide with fear because, holy shit, how was he going to explain that one to Mark?

_I dreamt about kissing you like that last night,_ he wants to say, because after losing a girlfriend to suicide and another to his shitty attitude he can’t stop himself from actually acting on how he feels.

The older he gets and the more his blood is drowned out by the poison in it, the more he actually wants to get his emotional shit together because _dammit,_ if he’s going to die young he needs to go out on a high note. 

Anyway, Mark looks completely frazzled, a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look ingrained on his sweet, stupid, adorable face. 

Roger sees him lick his lips, and when he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, Roger pulls him forward again, forcefully, but the way he attaches their lips is anything but. He pulls him right onto his lap, and his heart seizes a little bit when Mark lets out a tiny whimper and actually starts to kiss him back, soft and chaste, arms wrapping around him and hands grasping onto his leather jacket and the back of his neck. 

Mark manages to pull away to take a breath, and Roger rests his forehead against Mark’s, so close to him that he’s gone cross-eyed. 

Again, Mark opens his mouth like he’s about to talk, and Roger knows talking means thinking and that means confronting whatever the hell he’s actually feeling right now, so he does the only logical thing. He grabs Mark’s scarf, pulling his face close and kisses him again. 

Mark lets out a little squeak and - _was that a giggle?_ Roger feels his stomach twist in about five different directions and holds onto Mark tighter, arms caged around him, keeping him trapped there in his lap. Mark tries to move away again but Roger grunts in protest, and they can both feel the vibrations of Mark’s soft laughter. 

Finally, Mark pulls back, cheeks bright red as a hand goes up to brush Roger’s hair out of his face. Not for the first time, he can’t manage to find the words to respond to Roger’s actions. Opting out of the verbal response he chased after earlier, he presses his forehead against Roger’s. 

They’re silent for a long moment, and Roger finally decides to man up and speak. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he says slowly, and Mark lifts an eyebrow. 

“Have you now?” he murmurs back, the lines of his smile pressing against Roger’s cheek. He’s uncharacteristically full of bravado despite the magnitude of what just happened. 

Roger nods, nuzzling against Mark’s face. “Is that okay? Is _this_ ,” he pulls back reluctantly, glancing down at their entwined bodies, “okay?”

“It’s more than okay… I’ve sort of been wanting to kiss you for a long time, too,” Mark admits, sheepish, cheeks still tinted red. 

Roger chuckles, letting his head fall into the space between Mark’s jaw and shoulder. “What the hell took us so long?”

Mark shrugs, a small, adoring grin still on his face. “Life?”

Roger shuts his eyes. 

_Life._

It didn’t matter how much he loved Mark, how much they’ve been through together, how much support they had for one another and from their friends. 

It didn’t change the fact that life was still throwing rocks at them, that Angel was gone, that Collins was slowly but surely starting to go downhill, that Mimi still hadn’t kicked her smack problem even though they all knew that it was only going to make her hit the ground harder once it was time for her to go. 

“I’m really scared,” he admits, turning his face into Mark’s neck. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Mark clutches at him tighter, fingers turning white with how hard he was holding onto Roger. 

“You won’t. I promise.” 

Roger sighs, pressing a soft kiss to Mark’s neck before returning the hug. “You’re going to lose me.” 

He says it without once ounce of doubt in his voice. It’s a fact, it’s something that they’ve both slowly accepted over the past few years. Only now, the words carry more weight than they ever have before. 

“I won’t,” Mark replies sharply, voice full of conviction, like he really believes it. 

“Mark-“ Roger starts, hand squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. “We still have time. I don’t even have any symptoms yet. We’ll be careful, we’ll be -“

“No,” Mark insists, voice almost a growl. “You’re not going to die, not like this.”

Roger shakes his head, but he gives Mark a small smile. “Since when did you believe in miracles?”

Mark smiles back, an immeasurable express etched across his face, and looks back up at the New York Sky, illuminated by countless city lights and the light of a full moon. 

“Since you kissed me.” He says it very seriously, but a small smirk stretches across his face, betraying the weight of the emotion in his eyes. 

Roger really can’t do anything except pull the filmmaker back to him, leaning down to capture his mouth in a searing, adoring kiss, pouring years of pain and heartbreak and joy all the like into it. 

Mark pulls on Roger’s hair, yanking him back just enough so that they can make eye contact while still remaining chest-to chest. 

“I love you,” Mark tells him, voice thick and shaky, leaning close again to rest their heads together. 

Roger thinks kissing him again is more sufficient than any words could have been. 

 

 

 


End file.
